


set a fire in my head

by b_o_i



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Desk Sex, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Size Difference, Stream of Consciousness, lowkey power play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_o_i/pseuds/b_o_i
Summary: Lance is pretty sure he makes some kind of noise, maybe chokes a little because holy shit?Holy shit????And oh god, ohgodhe should leave, he should leave right now, go to bed and go to sleep and forget this ever happened because he knows that this is something he definitely should not be seeing—but he can’t, he can’t seem to move, can barely seem to breathe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i ruin everything i touch
> 
> (baby's first voltron fic)

 

 

It’s late, and he really should be in his dorm by now, either bugging Hunk or studying or sleeping because he has a test pretty early tomorrow that will be pretty difficult, but he’s totally ready for because he’s been studying for like the past week thank you very much. It’s late, and he was on his way to his room from the library, tiptoeing his way down the corridors because he wasn’t about to get yelled at for losing track of time and being out past curfew. He’d made good time so far, he’d thought, checking his watch, and he’d turned the corner to dart past one of the classrooms, fully intending to get back to the dorm in at least two minutes, but.

Well, first of all the light in one of the classrooms was on—at least a lamp or something, because the light was dim but it was there, pouring through the crack in the half open door and into the dark hallway. And see, Lance really was planning on going to his room, but he has a natural curiosity, okay, and who would be in a classroom this late anyway—unless it was one of the teachers, but Iverson never taught in this room, so he figured if it was he’d probably be safe. He just wanted a peek, okay, and then he’d be on his way and get the hell to bed. And so he tiptoed up and peered into the room all quiet like, a skill he’d honed from growing up in a house full of nosy siblings.

And so now here he is, frozen in place and almost 80% sure he’s dreaming, because.

Well, see. There’s Shiro, _the_ Shrio, the whole ‘pride and joy of the Garrison’ Shiro, the ‘recently promoted cadet who took on teaching some of the higher classes’ Shiro, all muscle-y and handsome with his nice arms shaking and a big hand braced on the teacher’s desk next to a head full of dark hair.

And then there’s the dark hair, all fanned out with some of the strands sticking to a lightly sweaty forehead, and there’s—and okay, and this is where the Might Be Dreaming Percentage goes up to at least 85—there’s _Keith_ , the ‘best pilot of his generation’ Keith, the ‘quiet, keeps to himself, pulled out of the normal curriculum to hone his skills in classes a few years up’ Keith, the ‘pretty to the point of Lance being kind of jealous but mostly just kind of weak in the knees’ Keith. 

And he’s all. Well, he’s sprawled on the desk below Shiro, uniform shirt hiked up to mid torso, and wow he actually has some kind of muscle mass somewhere on his slight frame—softer than Shiro’s model worthy arms, but still there.

Keith’s uniform pants are hanging loosely around one of his thin shins, pale legs wrapped around Shiro’s waist?? Ankles probably hooked around each other, hidden by Shiro’s bent body. And Shiro is _moving_ , a big hand between Keith’s thighs and his mouth all over Keith’s neck and jutting collar bones and—

And Lance is pretty sure he makes some kind of noise, maybe chokes a little because holy shit? _Holy shit????_ But neither of them seem to notice him, thank god, he thinks he would die on the spot if either of them looked over at him right now. 

And oh god, oh _god_ he should leave, he should leave right now, go to bed and go to sleep and forget this ever happened because he knows that this is something he definitely should not be seeing—but he can’t, he can’t seem to move—can barely seem to breathe.

Shiro’s hand _twists_ and Keith makes some kinda sound that has Lance’s pants tightening uncomfortably because he _didn’t know Keith could make that sound?_ He didn’t know Keith could pant and bite his lip hard—and he didn’t know Shiro could bite at all, teeth scraping along the other boys jawline, didn’t know Keith’s pale pale thighs could squeeze together and then fall open with a breathless sigh.

He’s—well he knows how these things work, he’s watched stuff and he’s had sex a girl or two, fumbled around with a boy in the dark once or twice, but. But this is something else, somehow, something new. This is something he’s never known.

Keith honest to god _whines_ and whispers something that Lance can barely hear, maybe a _please_ or _hurry_ or some other word that should _not_ sound erotic but _does,_ and then Shiro is pulling his hand away _(out,_ he realizes with a stuttering breath, he pulls his fingers _out_ ) and instead reaches to pull his already unzipped pants down his thighs and— _oh,_ Lance almost chokes again, almost fucking _swoons_ because Shiro is. Well, Shiro is _big_ everywhere, beautiful everywhere. 

And Shiro puts a gentle hand on Keith’s thigh and Keith seems to spread them open further if possible, Shiro’s steady hand trailing up to grasp Keith’s hip as he leans forward and pushes in, pushes in _slowslowsteady_ , Keith biting his knuckles and arching off the desk and trembling like something out of a wet dream.

Lance feels like his pants are painted on at this point, too small and too constricting, wants to reach down and do something to relieve that pressure so so bad, but the fear of being seen, of being caught, is the only thing that stops him. (He’s shocked that they don’t share his fear—and if they do they’re doing a pretty _shitty_ job of not being seen, but then Shiro bottoms out and Keith is whining low in his bared throat and Lance kind of forgets to think altogether.)

Keith’s hands claw at the desk, trying to find some kind of hold, and then they’re gripping Shiro’s hair like a lifeline when he bends over to drag the boys shirt further up with his _teeth—his goddamn teeth._

“You okay?” Lance hears him murmur, low and gravely and he actually has to grip the door frame to keep from swooning right then and there because _god._

And Keith is nodding unthinkingly, gasps out something like “please move please please” like he’s dying for it and this time Lance almost swoons anyways.

Shiro runs a big hand through Keith’s hair, brushing it out of his face all tender and fond and soft, and Lance almost has to look away—which is ridiculous because he’s just witnessed Garrison-loved Shiro stick his dick up Keith’s ass, but you know. Priorities.

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro says softly, some kind of teasing undertone to it, and Keith scoffs, breathless and disbelieving and growls “hurry up, asshole,” which is incredible because Lance has _never_ heard _anyone_ talk to Shiro that way. What’s even more incredible is that Shiro _listens,_ huffs a quiet laugh and pulls out slowslowslow and then _thrusts_ back in.

Keith moans something _obscene_ before he claps a hand over his mouth and clamps his legs tight around Shiro’s waist. Shiro groans in return, long and low, and buries his face in Keith’s neck, and _god,_ that’s what finally does it—Lance leans heavy against the door frame and lets himself work a hand into his pants, bites his finger hard to keep from making a noise.

Once he gets going, Shiro doesn’t stop. 

He moves, slow and steady and deep. Keith mouths something like _‘harder_ ’ and _'Shiro’_ and _'fuck’_ and god, Shiro listens, gets a good grips on his sharp hips and _pulls_ him into the thrust without breaking a sweat—and Lance is struck by how broad Shiro is, how strong, how small in comparison Keith seems right now, how easily Shiro moves him around and fuck, _fuck_ Lance didn’t know he was into that??? And then Keith throws his fucking head back and goes _“please, Sir,”_ and Lance didn’t know he was into _that either Jesus Christ????_ Eye opening in more ways than one???? Fuck.

And that _spurs Shiro on_ , if you can fucking believe it, he gets a hand in Keith’s hair and _pulls,_ leans forwards and whispers something that makes Keith fucking _keen,_ soft and broken, and Lance can’t hold back his noise this time, doesn’t know what sound he makes through his fingers, but it’s enough that Shiro _glances up at him,_ and Lance feels his soul drop through his dick and into the ground and in that moment he knows that this is the end, he’s going to drop dead right here, tell his family he loves them.

But then.

Shiro doesn’t say anything. Shiro doesn’t move, Shiro doesn’t stop. Keith hasn’t noticed him standing in the doorway with a hand down his pants, and Shiro doesn’t tell him—Shiro presses an open mouthed kiss to Keith’s jaw and thrusts in hard and while Keith is distracted, eyes screwed shut, Shiro brings a shaky finger up to his lips in some erotic shushing motion and _fuck,_ fuck fuck fuck Lance is _definitely_ dreaming, he has to be, there’s no way this is real, and if it is he’s doing to die, he’s going to sink through floor for real— _died the way he lived_ , his gravestone will say, _caught halfway to jacking off._

He doesn’t die. He doesn’t wake up either. 

He swallow heavily, heart pounding in his throat, and then Shiro turns his attention back to the boy beneath him. 

Lance breathes out something like relief or maybe arousal and it’s that second thought that makes him realize he’s still hard????? His hand twitches in his pants and spikes of pleasure rush through him and he really thought he knew himself before this. It turns out he’s. Well he’s kinky as fuck apparently. What a way to find out.

_“Shiro,”_ breaks him from his short spell of introspection, “ _Sir_ , I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Shiro murmurs, gentle but firm, hands carding through his hair again, “Easy cadet—you’re doing so good for me, Keith,”

_“Shiro,”_ Keith moans, “ _please,_ please please—”

“Not yet,” he repeats, eyes darting up to glance at Lance again, something in his expression that won’t let him look away, something so different from any way he’s ever seen Shiro look before, ‘God’s gift to humanity, nice to everyone’ Shiro.

It’s gone a moment later; he focuses back on Keith, shaking below him—Lance watches him lean down, sweat dripping down the curve of his neck. He whispers something against his ear and then Keith is _gone,_ mouth falling open in a soundless cry. Shiro talks the whole time, something low and private and then he’s coming too, probably, with the way his eyes screw shut and the whispers cut off.

And then it’s quiet. Lance can hear their heavy breathing and his heart beating and the hum of the electricity.

Shiro raises his eyes again, tired smile on his lips, looking sweaty and sated and perfect, and Lance knows he actually can’t stay propped up weakly against the door frame. _You’ve seen,_ Shiro seems to say, _and now you have to leave._

Lance takes one last look at Keith, sprawled limply underneath him like moving is too hard, and nods.

 

Later, he lies in bed in the dark, fist tight around his dick, and gets off to the arch of Keith’s back and the twist of Shiro’s hand and the sound of loud panting in a quiet room. 

(He doesn’t get much sleep that night, but he does pass that test, so. Excluding the fact that he can barely look at Keith when they pass each other in the hallway sometimes and can barely think about Shiro, he thinks it was overall a win-win situation.) 

 

 


End file.
